The two old men were as still as the stone bench on which they sat, as though their lengthy communion with the

element had turned them into statues.

The two seasons; deepest winter from above and nascent spring from below, created a juxtaposition that drew the

scene into the land of legend sitting only a heartbeat away behind a translucent river of time.

A jewelled garden the envy of Aladdin's cave spilled across the courtyard.

His shout was a syllable so ancient and powerful that Saffiyah's mind instantly censored it.

How is something authorised as 'feng shui compliant' he wondered. Is there a Chinese Ministry of Magic?

The tiny sculptures revelled in the demotion of their celestial peers soaking up the limelight of human attention

after an eon of slumber. Woken from their torpor by the one thing that all art desires; an audience.